


A Voice I Can't Forget

by MalecAcid



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Not Religious, Character Study, Gen, Luke Patterson Needs a Hug (Julie and The Phantoms), Luke Patterson-centric (Julie and The Phantoms), No beta we die like Sunset Curve, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Religion, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecAcid/pseuds/MalecAcid
Summary: The fear was there. Fear that someone would come down from the sky and take all of the living beings out, fear that whenever he moved on he would be thrown to a world of flames, fear that he was in the wrong, that he was going to be tortured for eternity.ORLuke has a past with religion.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Voice I Can't Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Okay soooo first I'm gonna start with warnings kfkzkck
> 
> ‼️Warnings for talk of a bad experience with religion, religious trauma exploration, bad experience with a church/with a priest and some internalized homophobia‼️
> 
> So I think an important thing to point out here is that!!! I know that not all religious experiences are like this!! And I'm very happy for the people who have managed to find peace and happiness in a religion, but there are others who have had bad experiences and I hc that Luke is one of those people!! This is also not the only possible experience of someone with religious trauma there are many other ways it can be experienced
> 
> This fic is almost like,,,, an exaggerated projection fic? Like personally my experiences with religion especially as a kid have been Not Great but it wasn't even close to this extent so yeah I think exaggerated projection is the right word kfkdkfk
> 
> aNYWAYS this fic was actually inspired by this post (https://missmitchieg.tumblr.com/post/644764008533147648/lukes-family-religion) on Tumblr by @missmitchieg which means this fic will be cross posted on there so I can tag them kejsjdjs but anyways!!! I hope you like!!

Luke couldn't really pinpoint the moment in time when religion became a thing he hated and a burden to him rather than something he practiced. 

He wouldn't say that his parents necessarily _forced_ religion onto him, he just couldn't remember a Sunday where he wasn't made to go to church, and he couldn't remember a time when the wooden cross wasn't hanging on the wall of their living room, a bible in the drawer of the table by the door. 

The church that they went to was fairly strict about how they were all supposed to practice. He remembered the way the priest reprimanded him when he confessed that he forgot to pray one night as a kid. A look of disappointment and almost disgust was thrown his way before the priest handed him a spare bible, telling him to read it every day until the next Sunday came. 

He remembered bending over that bible every night that week, tears flowing out of his eyes and down his cheeks as he stayed up and read for as long as he could, begging God to forgive him. 

He never told his parents about it. He had hidden the bible in his backpack as they left the church and stowed it away under his bed every night, bringing it back to the priest the next Sunday, nodding quickly when asked if he had read and prayed. 

He was only nine then, but when he thought about the nights of that week, he could still feel the way the tears ran down his face and dripped onto the bible he read by flashlight. Every night. 

He remembered being ten and dropping a bible as he and some other kids at the church were cleaning up. He remembered the loud noise it made as it hit the tiled floor, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he bent to pick it up, the other kids around him staring at him with wide eyes. 

They weren't supposed to drop the bibles. 

Nothing really came out of that, though. None of the adults were around, and the other kids were just as scared as he was, so they never told. He never forgot, though. 

He remembered a lot of things about the church that they went to every Sunday for so many years. He remembered the movies they watched of Jesus getting crucified, remembered the way that they looked so _real_ that he wasn't able to sleep that night. He remembered the priest's dirty looks and "helpful tips" every time he confessed something to him, remembered the way that he would talk to his parents about how he could improve himself. He remembered the way he was given his own cross to hang up in his room for his twelfth birthday by someone who went to the church, remembered the way his dad scolded him for looking disappointed. What Luke remembered most, though, was the _fear_. The completely all-consuming _fear_. 

There had been so much that he didn't even know what to do with it. He didn't dare confess it to the priest, knowing that he would immediately be scolded. Who was scared of the person that was supposed to save them? Of the person who created them? 

He couldn't help it, though. He was so, so scared, for as long as he could remember. Even now, he was scared. He was seventeen, dead, hadn't believed or worshipped in so many years, but still scared. 

When he was younger the fear let itself out at night. He would just be lying in bed, thinking, until he remembered the one time he forgot to pray, or the one time when he was a toddler he screamed that he hated going to church, and his breathing would start to pick up while his stomach ached. Eventually he would start to sob, shoving his face into his pillow to muffle them. 

After those breakdowns, he would bring his shaking hands together, interlock his fingers and curl into himself as he whispered and begged for forgiveness. 

When he got older and eventually started to stop believing, everything about his past with religion came out in his song lyrics. They were just vague enough not to be questioned by the guys and the people who listened to their songs, but close enough for it to be a good outlet for him to let as much out as he could. 

The band was another thing that got him dirty looks at church. He hated it. 

He started to drift away from religion and the church when he was about fourteen. He would begin to zone out during the sermons, and eventually even the priests' ever persistent glares couldn't draw him back in. He stopped praying the second that he realized none of his prayers came true. 

He wasn't really sure what that meant at first. When he first realized, he had thought that it meant he was already doomed to go to hell, that his sins were already too great at such a young age that God couldn't bear to forgive him. That caused a whole breakdown in itself, but a few years after that, he realized that maybe the prayers were going unanswered just because no one was actually listening. 

He thinks that he was more relieved than surprised when he figured that out. 

It made the fear so much less present. Made it only pop up every once in a while rather than every moment he did something that could be considered wrong. 

The fact that the fear wasn't always there any more didn't mean that it didn't appear sometimes, along with the crushing guilt. 

He was thirteen whenever he found out that he got crushes on everyone. He thinks that that really was the turning point for him, when he prayed and prayed for his crush on Bobby to leave, but it never did. Not until years and years later when he already accepted that he didn't quite believe in what his church had been spitting into his face. 

The acceptance had come, but the guilt never left. Any time he would look at a guy for too long, guilt would wash over him, making his stomach fall and heart twist. 

The fear was there. Fear that someone would come down from the sky and take all of the living beings out, fear that whenever he moved on he would be thrown to a world of flames, fear that he was in the wrong, that he was going to be tortured for eternity. 

But, when he was seventeen and ran away from home, deciding that he would never go to church again, he realized how far away that day really was. 

Until he and his boys died the night before their big show. 

As he floated out of the ambulance with his friends, he was scared. Scared that maybe he was wrong. But then all there was was dark. 

There was no red, no white, no fire, no clouds, just dark. 

When he was there, in that dark room, hearing Alex's cries, he thought that that was it, thought that that dark room was going to be all there was forever. 

And then Julie, another person who's managed to weave her way into his heart, played one of their CD's and they were falling falling falling right into the garage. 

She screamed, and then they screamed, and then she ran off, giving them a few minutes to contemplate before she came back, cross in hand. 

And even though he was now almost a hundred percent sure that God and heaven and hell weren't real- (they were ghosts, after all)- he couldn't help the small flinch he gave when she jammed it straight into Alex's chest. 

He wasn't surprised by what had happened, but he still felt relieved when she pulled it back and Alex was unharmed. 

Even though he was now positive that the cross couldn't do any damage, he still watched it warily as she walked out of the garage, a small sigh of relief leaving him when she walked into the house. 

When Luke eventually learned about crossing over, the ideas of heaven and hell came to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't help but make a few jokes about it, covering the fear that he knew was in his eyes with a little bit of humor. 

Maybe the cross over was just to black nothingness. Maybe it was a heaven or hell, a good place or a bad place. Maybe they would be made into new people. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

As they sang at the Orpheum, he couldn't stop the thoughts of _hell_ , and images of not praying, dropping bibles and not going to church. The pit in his stomach only got deeper as he thought about everything that he had done that the priest at his old church would have considered wrong. 

In the end, it didn't matter. He and his boys were destined to jolt out of existence, meant to fade away into nothing. He hated that he felt relieved. 

They were lying on the floor together, waiting, until Julie had walked in and saved them all, and he finally realized. 

What came next never mattered. It never _would_ matter. He was here now, with his boys and Julie, and _that_ was what mattered. 

The guilt was still there, and the fear was too sometimes, but he was surrounded by the people he loved. 

And that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad you're sad we're all sad but hey at least the ending was semi-happy 
> 
> (Sidenote: I can't believe _luke_ is my projection character. Luke??!???! Out of everyone??????? Not that in mad tho just surprised KFKZKDKSKD)
> 
> Also!!! Title is from the song now or never bc I love it kfkskdk


End file.
